


Bad Influence

by Inell



Series: Smutty McSmut Drabbles [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Balcony Sex, Banter, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Future Fic, M/M, New Orleans, Outdoor Sex, Public Sex, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Stiles Stilinski Has a Big Dick, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 01:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11369355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: During a vacation in New Orleans, Jordan indulges Stiles’ fondness for exhibitionism





	Bad Influence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anodyneer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anodyneer/gifts), [originfire](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=originfire).



> anodyneer said: Starrish - public sex & originfire said: Prompt: Starrish and outdoor sex
> 
> I combined these two into this not so little drabble. Hope y'all enjoy!

 

The sound of raucous laughter and chatter is heavy in the air when Stiles leaves the bathroom. A quick glance around the hotel suite lets him know he’s alone, so he walks towards the open balcony doors to make sure Jordan’s just enjoying the fresh air and hasn’t disappeared during his shower. When Stiles sees Jordan leaning against the balcony rail, he slowly stops rubbing his damp hair with his towel and just appreciates the view.

“Nice ass,” he says, grinning when Jordan looks over his shoulder at him and rolls his eyes.

“Stiles, put some clothes on if you’re coming out here.” Jordan lets his gaze linger at Stiles’ groin, though, and it’s not Stiles’ fault his dick starts to react when he licks his lips.

“Why? No one can see me except you.” Stiles lets the wet towel hang around his neck as he takes another step onto the balcony. “Besides, I don’t really care if they can or not.”

“There are hotels and private apartments all around. Anyone could look out the window and see you prancing around naked. Besides, there are laws about this kind of thing, as you know.” Jordan snorts before shaking his head. “Forget it. I forgot I’m talking to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles steps up behind Jordan and kisses his neck. “The crowd is loud tonight, isn’t it?”

“It’s Friday night on Bourbon Street. It’s been pretty wild the last two nights, but Friday’s even crazier, it seems.” Jordan shrugs a shoulder before looking down at the street four stories below them. “And I meant that I momentarily forgot you consider rules as mere guidelines, often meant to be broken. Besides that, you totally get off being watched.”

“Pot, kettle, babe.” Stiles rubs his face against Jordan’s neck, listening to Jordan make a noise that almost sounds like a purr. It’s somehow the cutest yet hottest noise ever, and Stiles loves hearing it.

“What can I say? You’re a bad influence.” Jordan reaches back to grip Stiles’ hip, squeezing it gently. “Anyway, it’s not people watching that gets me off. It’s the possibility that we might get caught, and the way being watched turns you on.”

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re the best boyfriend ever?” Stiles licks the curve of Jordan’s jaw as he looks down at the crowded street below them. “So many people already, and it’s barely ten.”

“You haven’t lately, but I already know, so you don’t have to say it again.” Jordan just laughs when Stiles pokes his ribs. “The bars have been open for a couple of hours, and it looks like people are enjoying the booze. Remind me to be thankful that we only deal with supernatural nonsense in Beacon Hills because I’d prefer that over dealing with drunk tourists any day.”

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to tell you that it could be a drunk tourist instead of an evil troll next time we’re dealing with shit.” Stiles casually rolls his hips, rocking against Jordan’s ass. “I like your ass in these jeans. It looks so tight and perky.”

“Please don’t call my ass perky. Breasts are perky. Not asses.”

“I disagree. Your ass is like sculpted by Michelangelo in tribute to the amazing term ‘bubble butt’, and I bet Meriam-Webster would totally put a photo of it in their dictionary because it really is _that good_.”

“I don’t think bubble butt was thrown around that often in Renaissance Italy, babe.”

“Well, it would have been if they’d ever gotten a look at your ass, Jordan.”

“Why don’t you stop with the flattery and tell me what you’re angling for?” Jordan turns his head and arches a brow, giving Stiles a knowing look. “You’re after something, and you’ve got a better chance at getting it if you’re just honest.”

“You say honest like I have a history of subterfuge or something. I could be greatly offended, you know?” Stiles thrusts against Jordan’s ass and bats his eyelashes. “You should really make it up to me for being so distrustful.”

“I suppose you know exactly how I should make it up, too, huh?” he asks dryly. He strokes his thumb over the bare skin of Stiles’ hip, teasing him at the same time he’s giving him that ‘I’m a boy scout who is an officer of the law and cannot be corrupted’ look that Stiles knows is as much an accessory as his badge.

“I _might_ have a few ideas,” he says lazily, moving his arms around Jordan so he can stroke his abdomen. One of his favorite things about dating Jordan is pushing him until the ‘good boy’ mask is gone, and the ‘wicked and naughty sinner’ is evident. “But I know you, babe. You’ve got plenty of ideas of your own. Why don’t you share with the class?”

“Yeah, you do know me.” Jordan’s smile is sweet as he leans back to press a kiss against Stiles’ cheek. “Better than I know myself, sometimes.” The next kiss is decidedly _not_ sweet as he licks into Stiles’ mouth and bites his lips. When he pulls back, his eyes flash a vibrant orange because Stiles has just slid his hand into the front of his jeans. “You want to fuck me out here, don’t you? Outside where anyone can see us if they look out the window or glance up?”

“Yeah,” Stiles admits, squeezing Jordan’s dick, his knuckles rubbing against the inside of the tight denim. “I wanna eat your pretty little ass until you’re dripping hard then I want to bend you over the rail and make you scream. You gonna let me, Jor? Gonna let me make you feel good?”

“As if I can ever say no to you,” Jordan murmurs, his lips twisting into a sexy smirk as he reaches down to squeeze Stiles’ dick. “You won’t be able to make me scream, though.”

“Eh, probably not, but it’ll be a hell of a lot of fun trying.” Stiles waggles his eyebrows before he pulls his hand out of Jordan’s jeans. He unzips them, shoving the denim and underwear down until he’s seeing bare skin. “You might want to get those the rest of the way off while I grab the lube and a condom.”

“I think I’ll keep them on. It’s more restrictive that way.” Jordan smirks at him when he stumbles on the way back into their room. “What? You’re not the only one who enjoys a little restraint occasionally, Stiles.”

“Oh, don’t think I’m going to forget _that_ , mister!” Stiles shakes his head. “You and I have a future date with a certain pair of handcuffs, Deputy Parrish, and you’ll learn why keeping kinky secrets is a bad, bad thing!”

“It’s not a kinky secret if you’ve never bothered to ask.” He pulls his t-shirt over his head, momentarily distracting Stiles with all that pretty bare skin and muscles. “Not my fault you just assumed. And you know what they say about assuming.”

“You’re such a sassy brat sometimes. I don’t know why no one else ever sees it, but they will one day, and I’ll finally be vindicated,” Stiles promises in an imitation of a Batman villain before he rushes into the room to find their lube and condoms.

He’s got Jordan naked and willing on the balcony, so he isn’t about to risk letting that change, but he’s totally serious about vindication. His dad never believes him when he says Jordan’s a witty asshole sometimes, and the pack all buy the boy scout aw shucks persona without much question. Lydia’s the only one who believes Stiles, and that’s because she had a sort of relationship with Jordan during high school, and they’ve got their banshee-hellhound bond thing going on. She never confirms Stiles’ statements about Jordan, though, because she’s evil and likes to see him flail and squirm.

When he gets back to the balcony, the noise from below is louder. Jordan is shirtless, standing against the rail with his jeans and underwear around his knees, ass on perfect display for anyone who takes a look outside. “Fuck, you’re hot,” he mutters, crossing the balcony in just a few steps before falling to his knees. “Ouch. That’s harder than it looks.”

“That’s what she said.” Jordan snickers when Stiles groans at him. In retaliation, Stiles slaps his ass lightly before grabbing his discarded towel and folding it to kneel on. Before he has a chance to make any other bad quips, Stiles is in position and spreading his ass cheeks.

“Hey, pretty thing,” he coos, listening to Jordan huff a laugh as Stiles talks to his hole. They’ve been dating for over two years now, though, so he’s used to Stiles. “Did you miss me?”

“If my ass ever starts talking back to you, I’m never setting foot in Beacon Hills again,” Jordan warns him. “That’ll cross some supernatural lines that I’m definitely _not_ accepting.”

“Babe, if your ass ever starts talking, we’re both moving to the other side of the world,” he says solemnly. “Now, let me get back to my previous conversation.”

“Oh, right. Sorry for interrupting. Don’t let me stop you.” He doesn’t even have to look up to know Jordan’s rolling his eyes and probably has that ‘I don’t know why I love this idiot but I’ll humor him anyway’ look on his face, which is actually a look that moves between ‘good boy’ and ‘wicked sinner’.

“You don’t have to talk for me to know much you’ve missed me.” Stiles leans forward and kisses the middle of Jordan’s hole. “I missed you. It’s been an entire _fifteen_ hours since I last saw you. Jordan insisted on spending the day walking around the entire quarter and going to museums, probably because he thought it’d tire me out enough to stay in tonight. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d be very, very annoyed that his evil plan actually worked.”

“Are you planning to talk all night or put your tongue to better uses?”

“Patience,” Stiles says, spanking Jordan’s ass lightly. “Don’t make me spank you, babe. I’d hate having the woman across the street watching you beg for more during a spanking.”

“What woman?” Jordan tenses slightly, looking around.

“The woman who might be there, standing by the curtains in the dark, touching herself while she watches us.” Stiles watches Jordan’s shoulders relax at the realization he hasn’t actually seen anyone watching them, and he strokes his cheeks a few times. “Sorry, forgot you’re not that into the watching bit.”

“I was mostly concerned that it was some homophobic Trump supporter who was calling the police on us right now. We are in Louisiana, after all,” Jordan mutters, “and we’re breaking at least two or three laws right now.”

“They’re only broken if we get caught,” he reminds him, kissing his left ass cheek. “Just relax, and let me make you feel good, babe.”

“Relax, he says, when I’m bent over naked a few floors above dozens of drunk people.” Jordan looks down at him and smiles. “Better get on with it.”

That’s all Stiles needs to hear to focus his concentration on Jordan and his pretty hole. He leans forward and licks from balls to mid-back, repeating the broad stroke several more times before focusing on the hole. He teases, at first. Quick licks, like he’s got a fast melting ice cream cone. Then he starts licking slower, getting it wetter, messy, spitting on the hole and then lapping at it. Eventually, he uses his tongue, pressing it inside, and spreading Jordan’s cheeks even wider as he fucks him that way.

When Jordan is pushing back against his face, fingers tugging on the top of Stiles’ hair, he starts using his fingers instead of his tongue. He presses two in at once, knowing Jordan can handle it, listening to the hiss of pleasure as Jordan rolls his hips. “Are you hard, Jordan? I bet you’re dripping, making a mess on the balcony. Look at how easy you’re taking my fingers. Need another?”

“Give me another,” Jordan demands, a slight growl to his voice that turns Stiles on so much it’s ridiculous.

“There’s three. Man, look at how your hole is eating them up. Do you feel them watching us? The people standing at their windows, unable to look away because you’re so gorgeous like this. Bared and open to the world, but only I get to touch.” Stiles reaches down and jerks his dick while he fingers Jordan’s ass, caught up in his own words and the idea that they’re being watched by at least _someone_ in such a public view.

“When you’re done, I’m going to hold you against the wall of the hotel and fuck you so hard that you see stars,” Jordan rasps, slapping Stiles’ hand away from his leaking erection. “I’m going to come inside you, leak out so everyone knows they can watch but never get to have you.”

“If you’re into the marking thing, I’m totally fine skipping the condom. I only grabbed it because you get fussy sometimes about the mess.” Stiles starts to tease his pinky finger against Jordan’s hole, stretching his fingers out, loosening him enough for his dick.

“We aren’t at home. It’s not fussy to not want to leave come all over a hotel room so the maids think we’re horny teenagers with no self-control,” Jordan says, voice still low and raspy. “Fuck me if you’re planning to or else I’m taking what I want.”

“Someone’s getting _horny_.” Stiles pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the towel before he stands up. He squirts some lube in his hand then coats his dick, using the remaining lube on Jordan’s ass. “So condom or not?”

“Not. You know I hate those damn things.” He gives Stiles an intense look. “Fuck me now, Stiles.”

“Your wish and all that,” Stiles murmurs, moving his dick against Jordan’s hole. He starts to press inside, giving him time to open up around the thick head of his dick. He kisses Jordan as he moves his hips, slow and easy, licking into his mouth as he thrusts into his ass.

The noise from the street makes a rather urgent soundtrack for their fuck. There are musicians down there now, playing a drum and a sax, and it’s a sexy beat that has Stiles matching his thrusts to it. There’s laughter and cheering, a general collection of happy and celebratory voices, and Stiles pulls back from the kiss, looking at Jordan as he imagines all of them watching.

All of them seeing Jordan push back to take more, seeing him going deep with each snap of his hips, seeing the look on Jordan’s face as Stiles finally gets his entire dick inside him, balls slapping against his as they move in a carnal dance all their own.

Jordan clenches around him, a slight smirk on his lips as he looks over his shoulder at Stiles, knowing—waiting. He starts moving faster, his hips snapping more erratically, and he kisses Jordan’s shoulders, licks at his back, nibbling at his neck as he moves closer and closer to the edge. He tries to reach underneath, but Jordan slaps his hand away again, won’t let him jerk him off, so Stiles focuses on his own orgasm.

When it hits, he grunts low, face against Jordan’s hair, hips stuttering as he starts to come. He keeps moving, slowing down, letting Jordan’s ass milk his dick until he’s completely spent. They kiss again, filthy and passionate, and Stiles whimpers, just a little, when it ends.

Then there’s a brick wall against his back, scraping lightly as he’s moved into a better position. And fingers pulling at the plug in his ass, wet and sticky as they shove inside, getting him ready. He whines softly, the noise lost amidst the noise from below, when Jordan pushes inside him. He growls against Stiles’ neck as they begin act two of their performance for anyone who might be watching.

Maybe they’ll even go for an act three before the night is over.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


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